


Acrophobia

by mattaretto



Series: Phobias [1]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Acrophobia, F/M, Fluff, Tattoo Artist Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-14 18:09:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16917783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mattaretto/pseuds/mattaretto
Summary: I wanted to go on the ferris wheel but there has to be two people to cart come on random person let’s go oh wait are we stuck at the top? fuck.





	Acrophobia

**Author's Note:**

> ac·ro·pho·bi·a  
> /ˌakrəˈfōbēə/  
> noun  
> extreme or irrational fear of heights.

You walked the boardwalk, cotton candy in hand. You hadn’t come with anyone, but you loved the boardwalk so you often went on your own. Some days you would just walk around, others you would go on a few of the rides. Today you had gone on a few of the rides, and had a left over ticket. You were going to give it to a child when a six foot tall man approached you. 

“Uh, hi, ma’am, I was wondering if you would go on the ferris wheel with me?” He looked as nervous as you felt.

“Ex-excuse me?” You stuttered out. 

“It’s just my buddy really wants me to on the ferris wheel, and there has to be two on a cart-”

“Then go on with him.” 

“He’s got someone to go on with him.” 

“You couldn’t ask anyone else?” The boardwalk was packed, and as attractive as this man was, there was no way you could on the ferris wheel, not with your fear of heights. 

“I don’t mean to be rude, but you’re the only one not here with someone.” You huffed slightly. 

“I really don’t think I should, you could be trying to murder for all I know.” You said nonchalantly, stuffing some cotton candy in your mouth.

“I don’t think I could ever bring myself to kill anyone, ‘specially someone as pretty as you.” You turned red, picking at your cotton candy a little. 

“You’re willing to go on a ferris wheel with a complete stranger?” 

“My name’s Steve Rogers, I work at a tattoo shop with my best friend.” 

“I’m Kai, and I work at a bakery.” 

“There, now we’re not total strangers. What’d ya say, go on the ferris wheel with me?” 

“No.” He stood there and stared at you in disbelief. 

“C’mon, please?” You paused, thinking about what could go wrong. 

“What’s in it for me?” You ate some more of your cotton candy, watching him carefully. 

“I’ll buy you more cotton candy?” He wasn’t sure of himself making the offer, and you felt slightly bad for him. 

“Fudge and you have yourself a deal.” The words left your mouth before you thought about it. 

“Deal.” Fuck, it was too late to back out now, right? He smiled and started to walk to the ferris wheel, you dropped your head and followed. Your mind began racing, trying to think of a way you could possibly get out of the situation. 

You weren’t able to think of anything, besides, it would be rude to agree to something and bail, even if he was a stranger. Staring up at the ferris wheel, you could already feel the anxiety running through your veins. You stood in line with him, leaning against the railing and lacing your fingers together. You stared at your hands, playing with your fingers as you tried to calm yourself down. How the hell were you going to even ride the ferris wheel if you couldn’t even look up at it. The line dwindled down and you found yourself at the front of the line, waiting for the next cart of people to disembark so you could get on. Steve didn’t seem to notice how nervous you were, which you were thankful for. 

You and Steve sat in the cart and the ride operator secured the bar over your laps. Steve took up most of the cart, squishing you against the side just enough to freak you out more. The ride jolted as it began moving, your hands flew to the bar, white knuckling as you gripped the metal. 

“Whoa, you okay there?” You barely nodded in response to the question, your eyes closing as you traveled further up. It was silent between the two of you before he spoke again, his voice full of realization, “You’re afraid of heights.” You nodded again, whimpering when the ride stopped suddenly. You opened your eyes slowly, taking deep breaths as you felt your chest tighten. You saw that you were at the top of the ferris wheel and closed your eyes again, gripping the metal bar tighter. 

“You owe me a lot of fudge.” You voice was shaky and low, but he chuckled and it rocked the cart slightly, “Don’t do that!” You squealed, fighting the urge to cry. 

“Do what?” 

“Shake the cart, don’t, don’t shake the cart.” You stumbled over your words, whimpering slightly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean too.” He sounded sincere, and as much as you wanted to open your eyes, you couldn’t. He placed a hand over yours and spoke again, “Why did you agree if you’re afraid of heights?” 

“You were pretty fuckin’ persistent. How long have we been up here? We’ve been up here too long.” You panicked, your breathing picking up as you started to hyperventilate. 

“I would have stopped if you had something.” He paused, presumably to look at the time, “We’ve only been up here five minutes.” 

“Would have you really, though?” The tears finally came as you gasped for breath. 

“Okay, okay, you need to calm down.” 

“Calm down?! I’m hanging 200 feet in the air. I’m gonna die.” You spoke quickly, not helping your breathing situation at all.

“Firstly, I don’t think we’re that high up. Secondly, you’re not going to die.” He was voice was calm, something you were thankful for. If he started to panic, you would panic more, he seemed to know this. He went silent for a while as you cried, your breathing still sporadic. 

“How long have you worked at the bakery?” He asked and you were so shocked you opened your eyes to look at him. 

“Excuse me?” He smiled widely, instinctively wiping a tear from your cheeks and causing you to blush slightly.  

“You said you worked at a bakery, how long have you worked there?” He asked again.

“3 years. I opened it 3 years ago.” You answered, actually remembering to breathe as you spoke this time. 

“You run it then?” 

“Yes.”

“Is it popular?” 

“Quite. We can go after, if you want.” He nodded, smiling again.

“That’d be nice.” He continued to talk to you, ask you questions about random things. You calmed down and stared at him wide-eyed. 

“How did you know that would work? No one’s been able to calm me down before.” 

“I didn’t.” He rubbed the back of his neck, smiling sheepishly, “My buddy’s got PTSD, it helps him sometimes, I thought it might help you as well.”

“Thank you.” You still held onto the bar, but you were no longer white-knuckling it, “How long have we been up here?” You refused to look anywhere but him, knowing that it could send you into another panic attack. 

“I have no clue, and even if I did I wouldn’t tell you.” You rolled your eyes but giggled.

“You said you work at a tattoo shop with your friend, that the same one with PTSD? What’s that like, working at a tattoo shop? You lack a surprising amount of tattoos for a tattoo artist.” 

“You ask a lot of questions, don’t you?” He grinned, though he didn’t seem to mind, “Yes, it is the same one with PTSD. I enjoy working there, you can learn a lot about people from the tattoos they want, and being stuck with someone for long periods of time means you often get to know the person. I have a few tattoos, they’re not visible with a jacket on though. I do most of the designing part of tattoos, Buck does most of the actual tattooing part.” 

“Cool. Where’s the shop located?”

“Brooklyn, across the street from a bakery that I swear has the best pastries.” You paused, staring at him with your mouth agape, “What’re you lookin at me like that for? I got something in my teeth?” 

“Either bakeries being across the street from tattoo shops is common, or you work across the street from me.” 

“You’re joking, right?” You shook your head and he laughed, shaking the cart, but you were to wrapped up in the way his laugh sounded to notice, “Well I’ll be damned.”

“I gotta thank you for opening shop across the way, people come in all the time after getting new tattoos. You’re a really good artist, by the way.” He rubbed the back of his neck, grinning slightly. 

“Thanks. Yea, they, uh, probably come in all the time cause I mention you’ve got some really good pastries.” You smiled widely, a light blush covering your face. Before you could speak the machine began moving again and you started to panic once more. Steve was quick to grab your hand, drawing your attention to him, “Hey, you’re fine, we’re going down now. I’ll get you off here, and we can go buy fudge from the candy store, okay?” You nodded and he continued to ramble, making sure to keep you distracted. You got close to the bottom and Steve began shouting to the ride operator. 

“Can you let us off? We got stuck at the top!” The ride operator was kind and let you off, you were thankful that Steve didn’t mention your fear of heights, it was something that embarrassed you slightly. You walked on shaky legs for a little to get out of the way of the ride, finally collapsing as your brain fully processed you were on solid ground. Before your knees could hit the ground, Steve had caught you and held you up right. 

“Whoa, careful there.” 

“Thanks.” You muttered, regaining your ability to stand on your own. 

“What do you say we go get that fudge?” You smiled and nodded. 

“Yea, let’s do that, but I want your number too.” He chuckled and smiled.

“That wasn’t part of the deal,” He grinning cheekily, his voice playful. 

“Well I can’t just be showing up at your work when I want to see you, now can I?” You began to walk toward the candy shop on the other end of the boardwalk, his arm around your shoulders like it was normal.

“I can’t say that I’d complain if you did.” You giggled, smiling wider than you had in a long time. 

“You’re a dork.” 

“You don’t seem to mind.” You rolled your eyes playfully, and spent the rest of the evening hanging out with him. He walked you back to your shop, respecting your wish of not wanting him to know where you lived. You ended up sitting in the bakery, fresh cups of coffee and unsold pastries from that day sitting between the two of you. His phone went off again, for what seemed like the hundredth time that night. 

“I think your friend’s worried about you.” You mused, lifting your mug to take a drink of coffee.

“Let him be.” He turned it off, putting it in his pocket and smiling at you. 


End file.
